


Tuesday

by leoandsnake



Series: Jack dated Tony verse [1]
Category: 24 (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Come Shot, Fellatio, Humor, Interrupted Sex, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, blow job while on the phone trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/leoandsnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prior to the events of Day 1. Tony surprises Jack in his office for a nooner (or rather, a 2pm-er). But as usual, things don't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Set in that "Jack fucks Tony while separated from Teri" verse I love so much, wherein Nina knows about their relationship and covers for them.

Jack’s at his desk working on paperwork. Or, more accurately, he is at his desk, staring at his desk, and there is paperwork on the desk just slightly out of his field of vision.

He does a lot of staring lately. Staring, sighing, fiddling guiltily with his wedding band. What did they call it in his military psychology class? Displacement activity.

His staring is interrupted by a hard knock at his door.

“What’s up?” he calls, pulling his keyboard to him and puzzling his brow in a purposeful way.

Tony walks in.

“Hey,” he says.

Tony has an intense, needy look in his eyes, and locks the door behind him.

Jack thinks about it for a second then reaches for the button to dim the glass.

Tony responds by dispensing with all formalities. He walks right up to Jack, tosses a manilla folder on his desk with a little more force than is called for, drops to his knees and starts undoing Jack’s zipper.

“Uh,” Jack says. “Listen -”

Tony pauses and looks up at him with that squint of his, like, _are you kidding me?_

“Tony, this isn’t -”

He makes the mistake of letting his gaze slide to Tony’s lips and whatever stupid thing he was about to say goes out of his head. Was it, _no, don’t put my penis in your mouth?_  That can't be right.

“I’ll be fast, alright?” Tony mutters, unzipping him the rest of the way and pulling his dick out with all the romance of someone sliding a hot dog out of cellophane.

Jack’s completely flaccid, because it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday and he’s been depressed lately.

Tony jerks at his dick like he’s trying to light a road flare. Jack gently pushes his hand away. Extremely limited sexual experience with men notwithstanding, he knows Tony would never abuse his _own_ penis like that. He’s so much gentler with his mouth.

“I’ll take care of it, just uh, start talking.”

Tony plants his hand on Jack’s chair between his thighs and leans into him. They kiss wetly. Tony has a day’s worth of stubble, and it rubs roughly against his cheek as Jack sucks on his bottom lip.

Tony pulls away from his lips and whispers in his ear, “I want your hard cock in my mouth.” In any other circumstances it would sound ridiculous coming from him, but his voice is barely above a whisper and it comes from way back in his throat with a slight whine that sets Jack’s nerves on a knife edge and sends a pleasurable pang straight to his crotch like he’s a wine glass that’s been tapped with a fork.

He starts to really stroke himself, and with his free hand he grabs at Tony’s dress shirt, undoing his buttons from the neckline down and rubbing at one of his nipples.

Tony kisses him again and draws back just enough to murmur “give me an order.”

Jack does him one better. He takes Tony roughly by the shoulders and shoves him back down on his knees, angled so he’s mostly obscured by Jack’s desk in case there’s an emergency visitor.

Tony looks up at him with big soft dark eyes, lips pink and full from kissing, and takes Jack’s dick in his mouth. Jack closes his eyes. That image will be in his brain for the rest of his life, or at least until the next time he jerks off.

Let no one say that Tony Almeida ever gave a half-assed blowjob. He sucks Jack’s dick like it’s his calling in life, with a kind of subtle eagerness that is so at odds with his day-to-day personality it makes Jack’s head spin with lust.

And then his phone rings.

Jack doesn’t even process it for a second. He’s got a fistful of Tony’s hair and he’s being rocked by quick spasms of pleasure. Then it rings a second time.

He grabs it and has it to his ear in an instant.

“Hello?” he says, doing his best not to sound like he’s about to come.

“Hey, Bauer, it’s George Mason over at District.”

Jesus fuck. Tony pauses and raises his eyebrows. Jack nods at him to keep going. This isn’t going to be a long conversation, unless Mason has some serious aspersions to cast on his ability to file 1150 forms.

“Hey, George.”

“I’m looking at this personnel file for Ted Paulson and I have a few questions, you got a minute?”

“Ye-ep.”

Pause.

“You okay, Jack?”

“Back spasms.”

“Ahh, gotcha. S.I.?”

“Yeah, around there.”

“Mmm,” George says. It’s not a very convinced mmm. “So Paulson took some time off for a gunshot wound.”

“Six weeks.”

“You didn’t say anything in the remarks of lump sum leave dates.”

“Didn’t think it was necessary. I -”

Tony decides to go off-script and fondle Jack’s balls. Jack presses his thumb into Tony’s shoulder as hard as possible. Tony actually laughs, or as best he can with Jack’s dick in his mouth. What an asshole.

“- I went into detail about the nature of the injury in the 90 day restriction remarks.”

“You should try Pilates.” Pause. “For your back.”

“You do Pilates, George?”

“Oh, fuck no,” he says. “But I can see you in a Pilates class.”

That is definitely not a compliment, coming from him.

He’s getting a little too close to coming and holds the phone warily away from his face, ready to put it down on the desk at any moment. He can barely hear Mason as he rattles on about nothing.

“... if that’s fine with you,” he hears.

“Yeah, George, absolutely,” Jack says, with great relief. “Fine by me.”

“Okay,” George says. “So I can hand that on up to Walsh, correct?”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

“Alright then, Jack. Have a good one.”

“You too,” Jack says, and hangs up.

He closes his eyes. He needs to finish and get this done with so he can send Tony back downstairs. Ten minutes is fine, but fifteen is too much.

Jack is close though, and he can feel it as Tony works him over, taking him deeper and deeper. Finally he passes the point of no return.

There’s a knock at the door. “Jack?” It’s Nina.

Jack wheels his chair back, pulling away from Tony so he doesn’t come in his mouth, but Tony leans forward at the exact wrong moment and Jack comes in his hair. And as sexy as it is and as much as Jack’s been wanting to do that, it’s not exactly convenient timing. 

“ _Damnit_ , Jack!”

Conspicuous silence at the door, then: “Tony?”

Tony gets up unsteadily, tucks his hard-on under his belt, and storms over to Jack’s cabinet, pulling out a hand towel and a water bottle. He wets the towel and starts rubbing come out of his hair as Jack does up his fly and wipes flecks of it off his pants.

It looks weirder if he leaves her standing there, and she knows about them either way, so he makes the executive decision to open the door, pull her in and close it very firmly behind her to deter any other visitors.

Nina looks at Jack, then at Tony, and wrinkles her nose. “You guys bleaching sheets in here?” she says drily.

Tony scoffs.

“Here, let me do that,” she says, walking over and taking the towel off him. She guides him to Jack’s couch and sits him down, then starts toweling his head.

“This an area of expertise?” Jack asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Wouldn’t you both like to know. Jack, I just had a disturbing call from George Mason.”

Jack’s stomach drops. “Saying what?”

“Saying that from now on, our 1150s are going to go through five agents before they head over to District. That’s going to take way longer than necessary, and the way we were doing it was fine.”

“Where’d he get that idea?” Tony asks, ducking his head away from her and squinting at her.

“Uh, from Jack?”

Jack’s mouth hangs open. “Hold on,” he says.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Did you _just_ talk to him? Was Tony… _while_ you were talking to him? Wow.”

“Nina, listen,” Jack snaps. “He’s never had anything important to say in the last five years. He only calls when someone above him wants my balls busted and even then he does a half-ass job. How was I supposed to know the one day I’m not paying attention, he decides to take initiative for once?”

“Well, isn’t that how it usually goes?”

Nina tosses the towel down next to Tony. His hair is standing on end.

“I’ll go call him back and try to fix this,” she says. “Maybe talk him down to four agents.”

She slips out. Tony and Jack stare at each other.

“I need a comb,” Tony says with a tight jaw.

Jack gets one out of his desk and tosses it to him. Fucking Tuesdays.

 


End file.
